The Phantom Legacy
by Green Wayfinder123
Summary: I'm way more than what people think I am. With the powers I have, I can change the world. The name's Silas, and this is my story. (OCS! IF YOU DON'T LIKE DON'T READ.)
1. Introduction

_I'm way more than what people think I am. With the powers I have, I can change the world._

Alright. You just saw this on a website and clicked on it; you was hoping to find a good, interesting story to read and grab your attention, right? Well, this is the wrong one. I'm not any interesting, and this story is anything but cool. So scram, git, scat, whatever. Just get away from here.

Ah, jeez. You're still here, aren't you? Well, you sure are _persistent... _

Before anything else, it's introduction time, because what story would be a story if you didn't know who the main character is? It would pretty boring, am I right? Right. Anyway, moving on.

My name is Silas Jack Fenton. I'm 13. Only call me Silas, no Si, Lassy, or any other stupid nickname anyone gives me. I don't like people, and that isn't just a certain group or anything like that. I mean people in general. I guess my likes are the usual. My family isn't something I would be embarrassed of or anything, we're a pretty boring, completely of-the-norm family. Except, of course, the fact that my dad's an astronaut, the intelligent doctor Daniel Fenton of NASA. My mom's pretty cool, too. Samantha Elizabeth Fenton is an agricultural scientist, and has gained growing fame by inventing new brands of crops that don't need as much sunlight or water, so pretty much anyone can grow them. My little sister, Deanna Rose, is constantly boasting and bragging about how her mommy and daddy are the best in the world. Me? In middle school, I just sort of faded into the background, where no one could see me. I liked it better that way; nice and quiet, and I can draw with no bothersome school staff or classmates.

Yeah, when I was a kid, on the first day of school, teachers would look at their attendance roll, look at me, and repeat. After they realized that if their mouths kept hanging open they'd catch flies, they'd ask me if I was the son of Daniel Fenton. I'd dejectedly agree, automatically knowing that I was going to be shown favoritism, have higher standards, and be expected to be a perfect example. Well, I was going to prove them _wrong._ From second grade, I had already shown my teachers and classmates my opposition to those things. I think the teacher called it a 'refusal to learn and cooperate.' I was secretly giddy when people started to get it: Silas Fenton was no carbon copy of Daniel Fenton, no matter the resemblance. Maybe, perhaps, _I_ was the one wrong.

I never thought this would have happened. Who would have? Little did I know that when we moved to Amity Park that a legacy would be inherited.

_I'm the next Phantom._


	2. Interrupted Routine

_New town, new people, new school. No one knew who I am, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Until, of course, Dad's connections here brought me some unwanted attention._

_'I wish that Mom didn't wake me up,'_ I thought. '_I'd still be asleep in my warm, plushy bed.' _I rested my chin in my palm, staring groggily at the steaming plate of scrambled eggs and sausage in front of me; my free hand absently twirled my fork in my fingers, occasionally poking and prodding at the white scraps of egg.

A small voice interrupts me from allowing my mind to go into its usual dazed morning funk.

"Silas, are you going to eat your eggies?" I shifted my gaze to the opposite side of the rectangular table. My sister, Deanna Rose, sat in her seat, a small pile of phonebooks plopped onto the cusion of the creaky wooden chair, so she could reach the tabletop. Her black hair was pulled into two pigtails on the sides of her head, her bright blue eyes wide and curious. I sort through my blurry thoughts, and decide that I don't want the eggs. I shake my head and push the plate to her, the sound of it dragging on the table grating against my ears.

One of Deanna Rose's eyebrows raised. She gave me a skeptical look, questioning my action.

"You sure, Silas?"

No, I just gave you my eggs for no reason. I then raised my eyebrows and nodded, giving her a look that says 'No crap.'

"Okay." She replied, and jabbed her fork into the white scraps, stuffing it in her mouth. I listened to her chewing for a few minutes, letting my slow, slippery mind wake up.

A hand waves in front of my face. I jump back from the table, bringing my chair with me. I whirl my head around, and see Mom. She's got her black hair pulled up into a ponytail, and a bright purple sweater covered part of her black slacks, nearly the same color as her eyes. Mom laughs as I scoot my chair back to its original position.

"Morning to you, too." I grumbled. Mom ruffled my hair. I smoothed it back into place. I love Mom, I truly do, but she treats me like a kid. Annoying as crap.

"Hello, mornin' people!" A chipper voice calls. I roll my eyes, and turned. As I expected, Dad was strolling through the dining room, pouring a cup of coffee and humming a cheery tune. He walked over to Mom, and gave her one of their big morning smooced. As I gagged, Deanna Rose got all mushy, with a big "Awww!" Dad then pulled away from Mom, and gave her a peck on the cheek. His eyes met mine.

Now, you, the reader, may expect him to ruffle my hair and chuckle, but instead we just simply nodded and resumed our daily activities. As you may have read in the previous chapter, I hate interacting with others, even my own parents. I love them, don't get me wrong, but I've just always been the kid who preferred to be on the sidelines; to not be noticed. I was never one for social interaction. Mom and Dad were simply respecting that.

After about fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes of idly sitting at the kitchen table, I made an exit. I trudged up the stairs, listening to them creak and groan with each step. I reached the end, shuffling to the unfamiliar white door.

About two months ago, we had moved from sunny Florida to Mom and Dad's hometown; Amity Park. The sign that stated the city limits said that it was a great place to live.

I guess that depends on who you're asking.

I twist the door handle, and push the door open. My room was pretty much never clean. The light blue walls are covered in random drawings, mostly people and landscapes. The floor is the same; it's a struggle just to rememeber the color of it; either brown or tan. My bed is always unmade, seeing as how when I'm awake I'm either reading or drawing, sitting on it. Despite the vile clutter, my bookcase in the corner of the room was packed tidily with books; the tomes placed into taut neat, orderly rows. It's pretty much the black sheep of the clan, so to speak.

I grab a thick hardback book titled 'The Lightning Thief' (Shut up, I can do what I want.) plopping down onto the bed, listening to the squeak of the mattress and frame. I open it to a random page, and begin reading.

The next time I take my eyes away from the pages, it's two hours away from when I came back up here; I'd already finished the book and was rereading it. The reason for my unusual break in routine was because of a loud knock on my door. I heard the shuffling of feet ont he other side of it, so I just ignored it. Then, it came again; more obnoxious this time.

"Silas!" Deanna Rose yelled through the door. "Come one! They're here!"

Who's here?

I sigh and shuffle to the door, yanking it open. Before I got the chance to retort to her, Deanna Rose grabbed my hand and dragged me down the stairs. I tripped and stumbled over every step, until I finally tumbled to the bottom of the stairs, face-planting into the soft carpet. She just stood there, completely unfazed by my fall. Then her eyebrows furrow, and her mouth curves into a frown.

"Silas!" She ridiculed. "You need to get it together! You're not giving off the best first impression,"

Yes. This is what I get every day.

Getting schooled by a 7 year old. I roll my eyes and hoist myself up.

When I look over into the living room, my heart nearly stops.


End file.
